New Starts
by EstrellaQueAdmiro
Summary: Sam has got into Stanford University, but he's unsure how to break the news to his family... Pre-Season one-shot.


**_I had this idea when thinking how much I wanted a Stanford episode on Supernatural, and I also wanted to write some drunk!Sam XD Merged it to make this fic! I know it doesn't exactly follow canon :) Enjoy!_**

 _November 2001_

Sam had waited until Dean and John had gone out for food before opening his envelope. This was it, the moment of truth. Now he was going to find out if he was going to college, if he had got his free ticket to the life he wanted and to escape his father.

The youngest Winchester had wanted to keep it a complete secret, but needed a permanent address to get his letters from Stanford. With no way to predict where they'd go next, Sam had no choice but to go ahead and confide in his uncle Bobby, who encouraged the boy and happily allowed his address to be put on the application.

His hands were shaking as he pulled out the letter. He wanted this more than anything, he had no back up plan. The only thing Sam was sure of, he certainly wasn't going to hunt for the rest of his life.

 _Dear Samuel Winchester,_

The boy grimaced at the use of his full name. He could barely read the damn thing thanks to his shaking hands.

 _We are pleased to offer you a full scholarship…_

Sam dropped the letter. His vision blurred with tears. Finally, there was a way out, finally he could have a life of his own.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean's voice made the eighteen year old jump out of his skin. In a hurry, he shoved his letter into his duffle and got out his homework, "Got you a burger. Hey, what are you doing that for?"

"What, I'm not allowed to study now?" Sam frowned, taking his burger with a small grimace. The grease had seeped through onto the paper, he had to fight the urge to gag. It sucked having a different appetite to his brother and father, but at least he could get away from crappy diner food soon.

"What's the point, Sammy? Who cares about high school, not like you need good grades for hunting," Dean smirked, "Besides, we're leaving tomorrow. Eat your dinner."

 _August 2002_

Everything was sorted, financial aid, accommodation. But Sam wasn't excited yet. He was leaving for California in a month but Dean and John still didn't know, he hadn't got the courage to tell them. Bobby had told him to ignore anything his father said, he deserved to live his life how he wanted and John should respect that. The now nineteen year old didn't know what he'd have done without Bobby's support. The older hunter had helped him fill out his application, both for Stanford and financial aid, he'd even helped him get a place to live. Bobby knew John would hate him for doing so, but he cared more about Sam to give a crap.

Sam had packed his bags in July, just in case. He'd skipped his own graduation thanks to his brother and father deciding it was more important to go chasing some dead end rather than see Sam graduate from high school. Dean hadn't gone to his graduation and hadn't cared, why should Sammy be any different? It didn't bother the youngest Winchester so much, not like he had any friends to share the occasion with.

He just couldn't find the right time to tell his father. There'd been a lot of cases recently, meaning John was always busy and tied up with hunting. Sam dropping the news right there would be catastrophic.

They'd appeared to have reached a lull in supernatural activity, so Sam was considering breaking the news then. Evening was creeping in, John was out somewhere, probably hustling pool somewhere for cash or looking into another case. He'd have to see how his father was before deciding to tell him.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean clapped a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, "We never got to celebrate your graduation."

"Thought you didn't care about school?" The eighteen year old frowned.

"Yeah, but now you don't have to go anymore, you're free to come hunt with us and really get into the job," Dean grinned, "You're a real hunter now, bro."

"Yeah, great," Sam shrugged.

"C'mon then, we should celebrate, right? My little brother's finally a man," the older Winchester brother ruffled his hair, "Saw a bar down the street, looked nice enough."

"I'm still a minor, Dean," Sam raised an eyebrow, "According to the law I should be sitting drinking lemonade and Sunny D."

"And that, little brother, is why fake IDs were invented," Dean handed him an ID card, his date of birth May 2nd 1980, "You're freakishly tall, they won't dispute it. You don't exactly have a baby face."

"Thanks," the youngest Winchester smirked, "I don't really want to…"

"C'mon, Sammy, just a couple beers, right? Not gonna hurt. You've earned it, man, all those years studying your ass off for nothing?" Dean's expression told Sam that there was no winning this argument.

"Fine, fine," Sam rolled his eyes, "Let's go, then."

The brothers walked down to the bar, Sam's ID in his back pocket in case he needed it. Sam considered confiding in Dean first, getting him on his side before finally braving his father, but Dean seemed so genuinely happy to have his brother hunting full time that he didn't have the heart. He knew leaving his brother behind would be hard on both of them, Sam could only hope that Dean wouldn't take it personally. The stress and nerves were getting to him, he was beginning to look forward to those beers.

Unsurprisingly, Sam had no issues getting a beer, and had drunk two before Dean had barely finished one, which was saying something.

"Woah," Dean frowned, "Slow down there, cowboy. You're not accustomed to the good stuff like I am."

Too late, Sam was already getting giggly, "I wanted to be a cowboy, remember?" the nineteen year old hiccupped, "Saw all those Westerns and decided that was the life for me."

"You sure did," Dean chuckled, forgetting the brotherly concern he'd just had for his brother and ordering another round, "You insisted on freakin' galloping everywhere like you were on a horse. Damn well near fainted when you saw a real horse for the first time."

"They're big. Horses are big," Sam shrugged, picking up his next glass, "Really big."

"Then you had your magic phase when you were, what, nine?" Dean raised an eyebrow, "Bobby got you that set for your birthday, and you wouldn't leave the damn thing alone. You got disappointed when you couldn't actually pull a real rabbit from your hat."

The younger brother snorted, "They shoulda mentioned that on the box. Very misleading."

Once Sam's third glass was drained and he could barely see straight, Dean went into protective brother mode once again.

"Think we should get you a glass of water, Sammy," he patted his brother's shoulder, "You'll be pukin' your guts up if you're not careful."

"'m fi-ine," Sam whined, now leaning heavily on Dean and mumbling to himself.

"Yeah, you're the picture of sobriety," Dean shook his head, "That's enough grown up juice for you."

With a childish groan, Sam buried his head in his big brother's shoulder and clumsily threw his arms around him, "D'n."

"What's up with you?" the twenty-three year old chuckled, "If you throw up on me I'll gank your ass."

"Gonna miss you," Sam mumbled, squeezing his brother tight.

"Miss me? Why, where am I going, Sammy?" Dean frowned, trying to prise his brother's arms from him so he could breathe comfortably, "I'll be going if you crush me to death, though."

"When I go, go Stanford," the nineteen year old looked at Dean with half-focused eyes, "Gonna miss you."

"Stanford? The college? What are you talking about?" the older brother was beginning to get apprehensive, "Dad will kill you if you apply for college, bro."

Sam grinned, "He's gonna kill me," he slurred.

"You…you really," Dean couldn't find the words, trying to blink the tears coming to his eyes, "Sam, you're going to college?"

"Yup," the younger boy smiled proudly, "'cause 'm smart."

Dean couldn't help but smile at that, "You sure are smart, Sammy," he sighed. He wasn't in the mood for a celebration anymore, "C'mon, we should get back. You're pretty wasted."

Sam could barely stand without almost falling over. For a tall guy he sure was a lightweight, probably because he was so damn skinny. Draping the drunk boy's arm over his shoulder, Dean paid for the drinks and guided his brother out of the bar. The ten minute walk back to the motel felt much longer with Sam staggering all over the place, mumbling and giggling to himself. It wasn't as funny as Dean would have usually found it, his mind was clouded with the fear that Sam really was leaving for college. After all, why would he lie?

The moment they got back, Dean shoved his brother into the shower and put it on cold, ignoring Sam's complaints. He pulled his brother back up, helping him into his pyjamas before handing him a glass of water to drink before he went to bed.

Once Sam was asleep, which happened before his head even hit the pillow, Dean began to search. He tipped the contents of his brother's duffle onto the floor, not caring if Sam freaked, searching through everything, ever pocket in his clothes, every part of his wallet. A wad of folded paper fell out of Sam's notebook after a good few minutes of searching.

Sam hadn't been lying. He had an acceptance letter from Stanford University, the kid had scored a full ride, and despite the betrayal Dean couldn't help but smile with pride. Along with it was confirmation of financial aid, details of his accommodation, other documents needed for college. All addressed to Singer Salvage, Sioux Falls, SD. Dean clenched his fists in anger, not caring that he was scrunching the paper. Bobby had known all along, helped Sam in getting away from his family. He could only dread his father's reaction to the news.

Dean woke upon hearing Sam run to the bathroom and throw up. He rolled his eyes, served the kid right, but got up regardless. Sam had never got this drunk before, Dean didn't want him feeling anxious. The older brother knelt beside him, rubbing his back and offering him a glass of water to sip.

"Get it all up, brother," Dean held back Sam's hair as he threw up again, "Get it all up."

Before long, the nineteen year old rested his head on Dean, groaning slowly in pain and staying where he was. The twenty two year old pulled his brother into a hug and helped him to his feet.

"C'mon, sleeping beauty, go get some rest," he muttered, pulling Sam to his bed and laying him down before going back to his own bed to catch a few more Zs.

Sam was aggressively shaken awake to find his father standing over him, eyes glinting with fury. The younger Winchester winced at his pounding headache, wanting nothing more than to hide under his bed covers and wait for this deadly hangover to pass.

"What the _fuck_ is this?" John snapped. Panic shot through Sam as he realised what his father was holding.

"Dad, I…" the nineteen year old began, unable to find the words. His brain was still scrambled from his heavy night the night before.

"How _dare_ you go behind my back like this! Turning your back on your own family!" John raised his voice further, causing Sam to wince even more.

"Dad?" Dean sat up, bleary eyed and yawning. He faltered as he saw what his father was holding, he must have left the letters out on full show, "Dammit."

"You knew about this?" the strict father turned on his eldest, "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Hey, Dad, I only found out last night when he let slip about it," Dean looked briefly at his brother, "Look, he's out of it, got himself totally hammered last night. Give him a break, let him sleep it off. You won't get anything out of him in his condition."

He gestured to Sam, who had already fallen asleep again. John rolled his eyes, slamming the papers down on the side.

Sam woke a few hours later, still with a headache but at least a little more awake, to find his father and brother waiting for him. Dean looked hurt, close to tears and betrayed, while John just looked angry.

"Sam," John began, gesturing for his youngest to sit in front of them. The nineteen year old did as he was told, his anxiety building. He saw the Stanford letter in his father's hand, and he instantly knew what was coming.

"You're not going to college, Sam," John said through gritted teeth, "Your place is here, with your family."

"What?! Dad, I…"

"Don't start, Sam. You have a duty with this family and you're going to step up to it. You're going to do something useful with your life, not waste it studying," the hunter's voice was firm and undisputable.

"You can't control my life, Dad!" Sam snapped, "I want to go to school, have a normal life, you can't stop me doing that."

"I can, and I am," John shook his head, "I can't believe you'd want to turn your back on your family. After all we've done for you, boy, you can at least act grateful."

"After all you've done? Make us train like soldier instead of be kids? You think I should be grateful for that?" Sam laughed bitterly, "You're kidding, right?"

"Stop talking, Sam," Dean muttered.

John grabbed his youngest son by the collar of his shirt, "Don't you _dare_ talk to me like that. I did the best I could to protect you boys, teach you how to protect yourselves and others. And you're going to throw that all away."

"Hey, hey!" Dean got up and pulled Sam free from his father's grip, getting between them, "That's enough."

"I'm not throwing away anything, I'm just choosing how to live my own fucking life," Sam had to hold back from yelling, ignoring Dean completely, "You can't keep me here!"

"You wouldn't even know how to survive on your own, kid," the hunter snapped, "You've _always_ relied on Dean and I, always waited for us to wipe your ass instead of learning to do it yourself. You wouldn't last five minutes."

"Then I guess now's a good time to try," Sam snatched the papers from his father in fear he'd destroy them, "Gotta learn sometime, right?"

"Yeah, you can learn. On the job, not some idiotic school," John shook his head, "I don't know what I did to deserve an ungrateful kid like you."

"What _you_ did?! Where do I start?" the youngest Winchester stifled a laugh, "I was wondering the same thing, why I seemingly didn't deserve a father like Bobby."

"Sam, stop it," Dean growled, "You shut your damn mouth."

"Why should I, Dean? You feel exactly how I do. Bobby cares about us, he always has. He _wanted_ me to get out the life, hell, he acted like any father would when their son wants to go to college! Why couldn't you act like that, Dad? Why couldn't you act like a normal father for once?"

"You know why not! You know why you have to stay with us! Your mother was _murdered_ , we stop at nothing to find her killer. _Nothing._ Bobby had no right to interfere how he did!"

"Mom's dead! No matter what you do, Dad, she's _never_ coming back!" Sam yelled, "You think she'd be proud of you? You think she'd want you to-"

The nineteen year old's sentence was cut off as John punched him in the face, leaving an angry bruise on his cheekbone. Dean was between them again in a second, shoving Sam behind him protectively.

"Don't _ever_ talk of your mom that way!" John roared, advancing towards Sam before being pushed away by his eldest son.

"Both of you, calm down!" Dean snapped.

"He can find someplace else tonight," John shook his head at his youngest, "If he's so ashamed of his family."

"Dad, please! Shut up, just shut up!" the twenty-two year old looked tearful, uncharacteristically so, "Sam isn't going anywhere."

"You agree with him, Dean?" Sam looked at his brother with a hurt expression, "You don't want me to go either?"

"Sam, we need you here!" Dean's expression was pleading, "You're smart, you're way better at research and analysing every damn detail than us. We need you on our side."

"So I'm useful," the younger Winchester shook his head, "That's all you want me here for."

"I don't want to lose my brother, dammit!" Dean snapped, "We've been a team since we were kids. Hell, I practically helped raise you! I can't do this all without my little brother."

"Then come with me, Dean," Sam started to smile again, "Come with me to Stanford, there's room in the apartment. You can get a job, get a girlfriend, like a real, long term girlfriend! Live your life, a normal, apple pie life."

"Don't you dare drag your brother into your damn fantasies!" John ordered, "I'm not losing both my sons to stupid dreaming!"

Sam did his best to ignore his father, instead looking to his brother with hopeful eyes. Dean shook his head sadly.

"That's what you want, Sammy. It's not what I want," he looked away, wishing he had the strength to just run away with his brother. God knows he wanted to, but the hunt needed him. He needed to be there to avenge his mother's death, "I want to find Mom's killer and make him pay."

"You should want that too, boy," John raised an eyebrow toward his youngest son.

"I never knew Mom. I don't remember her tucking me in at night and reading bedtime stories, any of that. If you hadn't shown me pictures, I wouldn't even know what my mom looked like. I'm not insulting her memory by wanting to live my life!"

The hunter was close to hitting Sam again, but managed to hold back. He was too tired to argue again.

"I won't stop you going to college, Sam," John said calmly, not looking his son in the eye, "If that's what you want, I guess I can't stop you."

"Wait…what?" Sam frowned at the sudden change of tune.

"But if you walk out that door, don't _ever_ come back," the hunter gritted his teeth, "It's your choice. Stay or go and stay gone."

"Dad!" Dean exclaimed, "You can't do that, not to your own son!"

"If he wants to abandon his family, his family will abandon him," John gave his youngest son a long, hard stare. Sam felt tears spring in his eyes, but he met his father's eyes.

"Fine," he rubbed furiously at his eyes, going into the bathroom to get dressed before picking up his bag to leave, "Good luck, Dad, Dean."

"Sam…what are you…?" Dean's voice was quiet with disbelief, "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think?" Sam snapped, "Why should I be stuck here wasting my life when I could be studying, being where I want to be?!"

"Just go, Sam," John glared, "No one's keeping you here anymore. You're on your own now. Try not to get yourself _killed_."

"I'll do my best, thanks," Sam turned to the door, "Hope you find what you're looking for."

"Sam!" Dean followed his brother as he stormed from the motel room, "Please, Sammy, think about this. Get back inside!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," the nineteen year old shook his head, his voice shaking as he struggled to stay composed, "I wish it hadn't gone this way."

"Just wait 'til Dad cools off, he'll change his mind, he'll get over it. Just stay here!"

"You don't get it, do you?! I _want_ to leave! I _want_ to go to college! If that means Dad kicks me out, then so be it!" Sam raised his voice.

"And what about me? You're my brother, Sam, I can't lose you!" Dean begged, tears overflowing.

"Going to college doesn't mean you've lost me," Sam couldn't help but smirk, "It only means that if you want it to."

"Why are you allowed dreams, Sam? Why do you get to quit, go fuck off to California and do what _you_ want, while I have to stay here?" the older brother's voice sounded hurt, "What makes you so special?"

"I had the damn guts to go against Dad's will," Sam deadpanned, giving his brother one last pained look. He couldn't stop the tears, "Goodbye, Dean."

"Sam!" Dean panicked, "At least let me take you to the bus station."

But Sam wasn't listening anymore. He kept on walking, away from his family and toward his new life at Stanford University.


End file.
